


Your side, my side

by sarahofcroydon



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen, MGS4, guns of the patriots, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahofcroydon/pseuds/sarahofcroydon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack, Rose, settling down, unsettled.</p><p>Set after MGS4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your side, my side

**Author's Note:**

> This is an unfinished piece I wrote long ago when I was very interested in the relationship between Jack and Rosemary. I'd love to finish it but I can't recall where I was headed with it!
> 
> I like the themes you can explore around these characters, around real and fake bodies, real and fake identities. I think there is a real love between them there but it's so twisted and thwarted by simply who they are.

Roy found us a military-owned property in a nice suburban neighborhood. I don't know how he did it, or with who and as what we were registered, but I stopped asking too many questions a little while into our arrangement. It wasn't that the answers were particularly terrible. They were technical and complicated and depressing, more often than not; John took the identity of a serviceman's deceased son in order to go to school, that kind of thing. The single father died in the field; the boy and his aunt in a house fire. Depressing. I preferred not to know. I had a lot on my plate already.

 

It had a white picket fence, and a red mailbox, and a sweet little garden. It was the living image of the dream properties I told you we'd buy all those years ago. You never seemed particularly interested, though I wasn't aware at the time that you'd never known anything like a family home.

 

To be honest, I didn't think this would work. We had become... devastatingly different people.

I wasn't sure if I was in love with you anymore, though I still loved you. Painfully. I'm not sure you ever liked me.

  
  
  


 

 

I know surreal. I thought I was done with it.

I guess I thought I was done with the panic that goes with the surreal, too. There's a feeling, when something seems wrong. Doubt slithers into your gut, you don't trust yourself, though you're the only person you should. You feel like your eyes aren't your own, like you're not all there, you feel like you're not quite inside of your own body.

 

Ha ha ha. See, that's why I thought I was done with all of that. Not much fazes me anymore. I guess I'm not untouchable.

 

I woke up in a double bed to the sounds of birds singing and my fiance taking a shower.

I'd never actually shat myself in fear. I suppose there's a first time for everything.

 

Could have been the medication. Drugs... I know drugs. Could be that this body doesn't.

  
  


I remember you running out of the shower trying to wrap a towel around yourself for modesty. I still don't know why you bother. There were lines and curves in places on your body I don't remember them being.

I think I tried to destroy the dresser. I had strands of my own hair gripped in my fists. I don't remember much else about that day, except for your eyes.   
They were lined and heavy and puffy, and I remember thinking that I loved them, because you hate them looking like that.  
  


I couldn't imagine the electronic you so heavy with age.


End file.
